The Pearl of the Antilles
by ct522
Summary: Set in Saint Domingue (French Territory) in 1790, one year before the Haitian Slave Uprising. Capitaine Peeta Mellark is the incorruptible Captain of the French Army in Le Cap, Saint Domingue. Katniss Everdeen is one of the most sought after courtesans in Le Cap. A passionate affair ensues against the backdrop of one of the most brutal uprising in recent history. Written for S2SL.
1. I'm Dreaming Your Body All Nude

**Chapter 1 - I'm Dreaming Your Body All Nude**

_I'm dreaming of your body all nude_

_a single dream breaks all bonds_

_separating man from love [...]_

_I build for you a town out of the dawn _

_without guards or armaments_

_in order to wait for you_

_so you can wait for me_

_so that in the end of days_

_in the smell of revolt and jasmine_

_you'll hold on to the power you possessed from the beginning_

_every day I bet on a secret light that's alive underwater_

_my muse the earth's top_

_dancing in the sea_

_at night I come in to sleep in your hands_

_you teach me to speak in voodoo rhythms_

_ride a bike across the tops of clouds_

_I inhabit the words in your mouth_

_all darkened lamps light up in your hands._

-from _I'm Dreaming of Your Body All Nude_ by Lyonel Twouyo, translated by Jack Hirschman and Boadiba

When Capitaine Peeta Mellark first disembarked in Saint Domingue four years ago, it was with the well-formed opinion of one who had spent a life collecting intelligence the way curators collect paintings. He was an incorruptible man in an environment where being incorruptible was equated with being undeserving of power. Therefore, though in possession of a sterling reputation, incisive intelligence and ruthless loyalty to the French command, he also suffered the local deficit of being of too stout a moral character. His refusal to accept bribes also resulted in his being significantly poorer than other officers of his rank.

But Peeta Mellark did not acknowledge such peculiarities of culture and society as particularly relevant to his happiness. He was a man of honor and dignity. His brilliant blue eyes, set in a youthful, inviting face chiseled from years of military deprivations, belied a titanian persistence in the service of completing a mission, a willingness to go to any lengths to ensure his enemy's defeat. In this way, he was not particularly moral but he was efficient. His inability to be swayed by ill-gotten wealth resulted in his receiving the unwavering trust of his commanding officers and enjoying a reputation for both ruthlessness and competence. He led his regiment by example, meting out punishments and rewards with unimpassioned equanimity and in consequence, his men willingly fought and died for him. This was a rarity on this island, fraught with the tensions of a massive slave population being trampled underfoot by the ruthless _petit blancs_ and landowners of the giant sugar plantations. Mellark understood that France was fighting a losing battle. Already, the mountains surrounding Le Cap were full of Maroons, or escaped slaves, waging guerilla war on the outlying plantations in the interior of the island. It would be no time at all until even the rarified gentry of the island's North beaches would be engulfed in the flames of a slave revolt.

Despite this reality, he embraced his commission with dutiful commitment and unwavering loyalty. He was a man without family connections to sway him from his devotion to his country and therefore never had cause to question his life's commitment.

As was his habit, he wandered the markets each Saturday, partly to make his presence known to the populace, partly to distill from his minds the preoccupations of the week. One Saturday, he walked the market in the shimmering, suffocating heat, nearly choking from the smell of over-ripened fruit and animal shit festering in the summer sun. He was made doubly uncomfortable by the scratchy constraints of his uniform but the Capitaine was a man who would never dream of venturing out of his barracks with anything less than full military dress. Any man in his regiment caught doing otherwise would have to contend with a fierce reprimand and a lash or two and so he held himself to his typically high standards. His eyes took in the cacophony of fruit stands, charlatan healers and roasting pits selling foods typical of the island – fried plantains, boiled cassava, roasted goat and skewered chicken. There was nothing of consequence in this market and even the people who frequented the place brought little of interest to his consciousness. Harried slaves, mulattos with airs of superiority_, petit blanc_ ladies with delicate parasols and offended nostrils – nothing drew him out.

Therefore, it was with bored indifference that he came upon a stand in which a heavily tattooed mulatto sold bows and arrows of every quality. Mellark glanced down, fingering an arrow tipped with fine, filed obsidian, the feathers at the end of the shaft tickling his palm as his hands ghosted gently over it. Lifting his gaze from the finely wrought artifact, he was shocked to see a gloved hand running as if disembodied over a similar arrow not 20 centimeters from his. Like iron shavings drawn to a magnet, his eyes glided over the stitching of the white gloves sprinkled with embroidered green and blue flowers that no doubt sheathed long, delicate fingers and continued to travel immodestly over the olive colored skin that appeared to be illuminated with an internal flame to a well-shaped forearm and bicep. The fortunate owner of that lovely arm jerked back suddenly and it was then that his eyes flew up and became arrested by a pair of glowing grey, almond shaped eyes. She'd discreetly pulled her hands to her elegant and understated silk summer dress and quickly turned to a uniformed gentleman who was most likely her companion, maybe even an officer of his own regiment.

From that first glance, Peeta Mellark knew that he would never tear that lovely creature from his soul. Something in his calm, controlled demeanor exploded and was replaced by a fog of aching need so dense, he forgot that he was in the marketplace and instead allowed his eyes to bore into her back, caring not a whit that they were in a public place. With a rustle of her skirts, she floated off and it was then that he observed the way others reacted to her splendid presence. She spoke quietly, with a restrained charm, to the gentleman next to her while all eyes were glued to her. Her mannerisms were unconscious and natural and Mellark perceived that she did not fully understand the effect she had on others.

With a parched mouth and a stampeding heart, he followed behind her and her companion. Something in their rapport gave him to understand that she was not married to the gentleman and the thought of this made his palms itch to touch her. He followed the winding town road, elbowing others out of the way in an effort to keep up the pace of the couple against the onslaught of the sweaty, burbling crowd. Perhaps it was his intensity or the steely determination to catch her but something in his physical attitude broadcasted his intent and soon his way was blocked by a tall, dark-haired woman with a lithe but powerful build.

"Get in line." She growled, an ax that seemed too large for her body swinging dangerously from her waist.

Capitaine Mellark was brought up short by the presumptuous address of this man-woman. She had medium length dark hair and chocolate brown eyes set in a fierce countenance. Her finely muscled arms were covered in cheap bangles that tinkled when she moved. His practiced eye for sizing up his adversaries told him that this was not a woman to be trifled with, for though she could be considered feminine and attractive, she also possessed a man's spirit for aggression and determination. He was accustomed to delivering orders with the unmistakable expectation of obedience but he'd rarely met a woman who could deliver such edicts with equal impunity.

"What is your business?" he asked in controlled irritation.

"My business is also yours, _Capitaine_. You are not the only one interested in my mistress, Madam Katniss Everdeen."

He drew himself up to his full height, pushing out his broad chest. "I must see her at all costs." He insisted with an ardor bordering on desperation.

When the man-woman saw how upset he was becoming, she brought her lips to his ear and whispered "A small tip will place you ahead of her other clients."

The nature of the mysterious woman's beauty, the subdued flirtation with her companion, her exposed yet restrained magnetism, the way men and women alike stared at her with awe and desire struck him like a powerful blow to his chest. The longing to hold this creature in his arms warred with his propriety, a battle so fierce, it was broadcast throughout his body like the volley of cannon fire. His arrogance crumpled under the weight of his need. "I will pay your fee but I must see her…" He repeated between pained breaths. He knew that by exposing his agitation, he would triple the cost to himself in money and trouble but he had no other recourse. Like an explosion of fireworks, all of his incorruptibility rent itself in pieces and floated down around his rigid morality like spent ashes. He agreed to the tip and received the calling card with the address in exchange. It was in this way that he understood he was gambling his life at the feet of one of the most desired courtesans in all of Le Cap.

**XXXXX**

Katniss Everdeen's life read like one of the famous bildungsromans about which the proper ladies of the day raved. Her father married her mulatto mother in one of the intervals of legislative mercy that allowed freeborns and whites the privilege of marrying mulattos on the island. Her father had been a prosperous merchant who'd fallen victim to the harassment of the Spanish and British pirates, finally succumbing to a Spanish raid. His body was tossed overboard, never to be found again. Katniss loved her father with an untainted affection that only innocent children could muster, a love born not of familiarity with the truth of a person's character, but with the clouded eyes of infantile worship. The loss of her beloved father was of such a trauma to her impressionable heart that she held her subsequent affections close to her for fear they would be so bereaved again.

As if her father's untimely demise were not sufficient to damage the young girl's sense of the world's immutable security, the death of her mother soon after caused her to seal her heart away from the treachery of human affection. Katniss' mother could not bear the loss of her husband and, being a mulatto raised in the privilege of white women but with none of the legal protections of their class and in no possession of even the smallest business sense, descended into desperation and soon committed suicide, leaving Katniss in the care of the nuns of St. Albino with what remained of her father's fortune.

The life of the nunnery was stifling at first, with its regimen of prayer, schooling and lady-like work and the attendant loss of all the material comforts to which her upbringing had accustomed her but Katniss soon learned to love the sameness of each day. It returned her to a cocoon of temporary safety not unlike the way she felt when her father was still alive and, though she eventually became one of the most dynamic and sought after women in Le Cap, she still desired in her heart an anchor to root her infamy, something about which to tether the whirlwind of fate and misfortune that struck both the wealthy and the destitute with equal indifference. She could not have known that it would come to her eight years later dressed in a military uniform on a sweltering tropical night, lowering his anchor like a boom in the middle of her coquette's life of flirtations, dances and sensuous delights.

Though Katniss was only ten when she first took up residence in the nunnery, she understood at the tender age what many adult women of privilege would never perceive in a lifetime. Her father's estate would not sustain her indefinitely and was compromised by the lack of responsible stewardship. One year later, Madam Effie Trinkett, a dear friend of her father's in the colorful days of his youth, appeared at the nunnery to claim the waif-like girl. It was decided, quite without consulting Katniss, that she would be released into the care of Madam Trinket. Before she'd even experienced the first cycles of the moon, she began her tutelage under the older woman's apprenticeship and thus began her life as a courtesan.

**XXXXX**

"Johanna, I don't understand your mind." Katniss complained as she prepared for the evening. She had spent the afternoon with Lieutenant Valmont, a young, shrewd officer, entertainment that, as the decorum of their practice dictated, privileged him with the right to her bed that evening. Lt. Valmont was agreeably handsome, albeit young and inexperienced and it would have been no great sacrifice to give the young man his two hours of allotted pleasure.

Katniss was highly selective of her company, a freedom she possessed by virtue of her rare, extraordinary beauty, the immaculate care she took of her person and health and the reputation for possessing arts so alluring, it was said that she could make a man harden inside of her 10 times in one night without removing his organ from her body. Truth be told, many of the fantastic rumors that circulated about her sexual arts were mostly perpetrated by her manager and protector, Johanna Mason. It was shrewd business on both their parts, for the exaltation of the young mistress' fame served to keep Katniss out of the syphilis-infested bordellos near the port and Johanna from laboring in the sugar cane fields. Nonetheless, much of her prosperity also depended on the honest and fair practice of keeping appointments and meeting obligations – in other words, the reputation of being reliable.

"The gentleman paid a generous fee for your company this very evening. He is not typical of the officers of Le Cap and is of an ardent, passionate nature. It will be very profitable for you to keep his acquaintance," responded Johanna as she placed Katniss' summer dress on a mannequin to air out near the dressing room window.

"What excuse did you give the Lieutenant for my indisposition?" she asked, brushing her dark hair before coiling it onto the top of her head.

"I sent little Rue to the barracks with a request to excuse you on the pretext of heat-illness. Capitaine Mellark paid well but you will not be seen in Le Cap this evening. The deception will not be discovered," Johanna huffed indignantly as she filled the water for Katniss' evening soak, for she did enjoying the doubting of her managerial talents. She sprinkled gardenia petals and French whale oil, the pungent fragrance soon mixing with the humidity of the evening and suffusing every corner of the small room.

Katniss froze in her preparations. "Capitaine Mellark? The Bloodhound of Saint Domingue? You're joking, Johanna!" She shivered as she said this. The gentleman was none other than the feared Captain of the French army, renowned for his efficiency and ruthlessness towards his enemies and yet his personal integrity was unimpeachable, exaggerated to almost comic proportions. She feared that she would not be able to marshal enough charm to overcome her sudden unease. She could manage every manner of lustful, corrupt man but was at a loss to confront the challenge of so stolid a personage.

"I was likewise taken aback, but the moment his eyes alighted upon you, he appeared to be in the grip of a fever - like a man possessed! If he is unimpeachable, then there truly is a whore for every man!" Johanna chuckled, unable to repress her native vulgarity.

Katniss' eyes narrowed, her temper flaring like a tropical storm. "I am no whore, Johanna. I am a courtesan," she repeated the refrain that Madam Effie taught her. "A whore is mounted like a dog and has no art. I create beauty out of brute instinct and bend men to my will. And I have a purpose. A common whore has no vision."

Katniss lifted her head in angry defiance against the dust motes that danced on the beams of light entering the room. She had maybe five good years of this profession left in her, for men tired of the same faces and asses, no matter how exquisite they were. She was determined not to end up toothless, ill and destitute in one of the dozens of whore-houses near the port. She saved her gifts, her money and jewels, giving private loans at usury rates, Johanna efficiently enforcing payment plans in the only way she knew how. In the meantime, they buried their wealth between the beams of her bedroom walls. She had been forced to exchange her virtue for decadence but it was not an end in itself. She would be free, not to starve and die, but to prosper and finally buttress her life against the mindless forces that had reduced her mother to desperation and death. Katniss let her silk robe fall from her shoulders, the sunset casting a golden light on her olive skin and she had the sudden intimation that she was more than just beautiful, more than desirable. She was radiant like the sun.

**XXXXX**

Mellark appeared at her door in all his military gallantry. Johanna led him to the small, gold chest where he was asked to deposit his payment before he was given access to the mistress' inner compartments. The hand that held the satin box with the gold necklace shook slightly and a sheen of sweat burst over the skin at the back of his neck. He had spent his afternoon preening like a lady – washing himself, then sitting for a shave and sending his man to press and stiffen his best shirt and collar. When he intuited the possible absurdity of dressing for a woman who was paid to find ecstasy in even the most common attire, he drowned his doubts in the memory of those silver eyes that danced behind his own each time they closed. He was indeed a man in the fit of an illness whose spirits emanated equally from his heart and his loins.

Madam Everdeen waited for him at the door of her ornately decorated living room. The decor was an attempt to keep with the French vogue of the moment but though hopelessly outdated, there was evidence of an artistic eye sensitive to the symmetries of color and style. She wore a satin robe and small, slippers in the Arabic style. Her hair was a mane of black silk cascading over her small, erect shoulders. But it was her eyes that ravished his imagination – so exotic and precise in their silvery color, he could not doubt the negro blood that sang in her veins. She took the box carefully from his hands and opened it, a slow smile spreading across her face as she took in the delicate gold chain which ended in a claw that held a grey pearl in its grasp. She was accustomed to large, bawdy jewelry whose sole purpose was to showcase the wealth and presumption of its giver. Katniss felt of flood of heat race over her skin. This was not a gift intended to overwhelm but to woo. It was an act of intimate persuasion and for the first time, she looked up to take in the man before her. She was captivated by the deep blue of his eyes, a color that reminded her of the still waters of the Mer du Nord. Like a crashing sea wave, the realization flooded her that he was not merely attractive but beautiful. His hair was of a spun gold color, curled from the humidity. Her eyes drifted over the prominent, masculine nose, skating over his full pink lips, taking in the smooth skin of his chin. She did not resist the urge to touch his jaw and whispered "You shaved."

It was not lost on Peeta Mellark that the first words Katniss Everdeen had ever said to him had not been uttered for the purpose of introduction. It was to remark on the fact that he had shaved for her as if she had known him forever and for the first time in his adult life, he was at a loss. Inside this room, he was at the mercy of this bewitching creature, rooted to the ground and accepted her dominion, nodding without saying a word. She removed the gold chain from the box and turned her back to Peeta. Lifting her hair, she wordlessly indicated that he should help her fix the gift around her neck. He fumbled slightly with the clasp but soon the chain was attached and he let his fingertips linger a moment longer on her smooth skin until he felt her pull away. She turned around and let him take in the offering on her skin.

"The pearl." she asked, suddenly breathless. "I have never been given one before." She caressed the cool roundness with her fingers.

Peeta was struck dumb by her small face buried in waves of thick, black hair that he longed to touch and it was only with extreme effort that he was able to loosen his tongue. "Your eyes, m'lady. It is the color of your eyes."

Katniss took a deep breath. There were clients she had been with repeatedly who could not say with certainty what the color of her eyes were and this imposing man of such viril power had possessed the sensitivity to immortalize them in the pearl that now hung from her neck. She took both his hands, large and calloused, and felt an explosion of sensation race from her fingertips to the center of her chest. Peeta's lips fell open, a tiny breath escaping and she knew he had felt it also. His palms were clammy and it occurred to her that the man was suffering in the heat of the evening. Grateful for the distraction from the sensation that threatened her deep, native indifference towards all men, she deftly opened the buttons of his military coat and pushed the jacket carefully over his shoulders.

"You are hot," she whispered, suddenly shy as she placed the jacket over the back of a chair. Taking his hand and shivering from the contact, she pulled him over to a settee and sat him down, standing between his thickly muscled legs. She openly appraised him before reaching for a plate where he noticed for the first time the heavy, plump slices of mangos. The summer heat caused the juice to ooze from the ripe fruit. She picked up one of the swollen slices, popping it playfully into her mouth. She then lowered her head to his mouth and kissed him, pushing her sweetened tongue through his pliant lips where she danced with his until he felt her slide the mango slice across the boundary of his lips. He was taken aback by the intimacy of the act and felt himself harden within the tight confines of his britches.

Katniss had different routines for her friends, as she preferred to call them, depending on her knowledge and intuition of them. She never spent more than two hours with any one of them unless under extraordinary – and expensive – circumstances but she never made them feel rushed or timed. Capitaine Mellark, however, befuddled her senses and as she ran through her repertoire, found none that would do and so she abandoned the script and let the moment lead her. She took his face between her hands and rained kisses on him – eyes, nose, cheeks, chin – in quick succession, an act that elicited a stifled moan from Peeta's lips.

Rousing himself from his stupor, he placed his large hands on her legs, gliding over the smooth muscles of her thighs and the exquisite curve of her buttocks, resting them on her hips. Katniss skin burned at the touch of those battle-worn hands, the sensation weakening her knees, causing her to drop down between his legs. She was disconcerted that she could not control the strumming of her body and clutched his thighs for purchase. She leaned forward and slowly licked the skin of his smooth chin, the surface of his neck. Kisses continued to fall from her lips as she unbuttoned his dress shirt, her fingers dancing over the taut muscles of his chest, causing them to twitch with each pass of her skin against his. When she'd pushed the stiff material off of his shoulders, she admired the smooth skin puckered with the proof of his numerous campaigns. She brought her lips down and flicked her tongue over one scar, laving his skin wherever it was raised into ridges.

Peeta was sure something inside of him would erupt as her tongue traversed the path of her fingers. Just when he thought he could not endure the feel of those sly lips upon him, she reached over to the dish of soggy mangos and captured two of them between those long, delicate fingers. To his shock, she squeezed the juices over his chest and stomach, casting aside the pressed fibers of the fruit back onto the dish. Greedily, as if he had been a slice of the ripened fruit itself, she lapped the juice from his chest and stomach. He felt the breath rush out of his lungs and sank into the sweet suffocation of her lips on him, running his hands through the curtain of her ebony hair that brushed at his groin and thighs with her every movement. He grabbed the hand that had squeezed the fruit and licked her fingers, sucking on each dainty one until she moaned against his belly.

Steadying her racing breath, Katniss reached the buckle of his britches, working them skillfully off of him, tugging off his riding boots and freeing him of the layers of stiff clothing until he sat naked before her. She felt a rush of moisture drench her center as she took in the sight of him open to her in all his virility. His manhood lay rigid over his rippled belly, defined, muscular thighs on either side of her, attesting to the conditioning that only comes from spending extended amounts of time on horseback.

Undoing his lavish work on her fingers, Katniss took two more slices and squeezed the juice, this time over his hardened cock, the thick syrupy juice running in rivulets over the veins and ridges and dripping in heavy drops over his sack and onto the floor. She kissed the engorged tip, her tongue licking at the juices with long, languid strokes. Peeta's head fell back against the couch as she used the flat of her tongue to lap up every last drop of juice, capturing his sack in her mouth and sucking gently. When the coiling in his belly became an inescapable pain, she sheathed his organ in her mouth, taking him as deeply as she could into her throat. Peeta clutched at her hair, moving it aside to watch Katniss intently as she bobbed over his hips, her delicious hands stroking what would not fit in her mouth. Too soon, he felt the tightening in his balls and he longed to withdraw from her mouth, desperate to make her feel the pleasure she was giving to him but Katniss would not release his cock and with a painful groan, he came in hot spurts that she swallowed as greedily as the mango juice she had lapped up earlier. As his softening member slid out of her lips, she took the last bit of mango and bit into it, chewing slowly before offering him the other half. She slithered like a snake up his body and straddled him.

Peeta felt he had emptied out his very soul with that orgasm but the feel of her impossibly soft skin against his revived him and he kissed her, his tongue exploring her mango flavored mouth. She threaded her fingers in his hair as he undid the sash of her robe, running his powerful hands over her until they cupped her pert, perfect breasts. He took each in turn, tweaking her nipples until he lowered his mouth to taste each one, sucking greedily on each turgid tip, drawing them into his mouth. With his wide, open palm, he pressed the small of her back towards him, forcing her to arch her back, jutting out her round, rigid breasts . He lapped at both of them, running wet, hot kisses over the mounds, between and over them until Katniss fairly trembled in his arms. Unable any longer to resist the need to feel her beneath him, he stood suddenly, constraining her to wrap her legs around his waist before he walked them both to the bed that was visible through the thin curtain of her bedroom.

Peeta kissed her voraciously, kneading her ass as he plundered her mouth, lowering her slowly onto the bed. She tried to position him onto his back, determined to continue pleasuring him as he had paid her to do but he stopped her with other intentions.

"It's your turn." He whispered as his lips made their way down her neck and across the indentation of her collarbone; his flicking tongue sending shivers of pleasure across her skin.

When she felt his thick fingers between her now embarrassingly wet folds, she moaned in protest. "Capitaine, let me please you."

Peeta nipped at her breasts, slipping a thick finger inside of her. "Not Capitaine. Peeta. I paid for the privilege to do as I want. And I want to please you." He said firmly before kissing her deeply, pushing a second finger inside of her, causing Katniss' hips to buck against him. He let his mouth traverse the olive territory of her skin, from her neck to her small, rounded breasts and down her stomach, laving and biting her until she trembled in expectation.

"Tell me what you like." he asked earnestly. She looked into his sea-blue eyes and was struck mute for want of a response. She had been trained in every art of giving pleasure but never in her education had she learned to receive and accept it. She was not taught to see her body as a vehicle for her own desire, having submitted to the pleasure of others so completely and for so long that seeing a man in the throes of his own ecstasy became confused as her own. She had had many men kneel between her thighs but now this man would confound her carefully constructed boundaries and request – no, demand - to please her and she had no answer to give.

Her lips trembled at the realization that she did not have access to information about her body that most other woman of her age and beauty could take for granted.

"Monsieur," she said softly, balling the soft sheets with her hands. "I do not know."

Peeta lifted his head from between her bent legs and gave her a look of shock and compassion. "That will not do, my pearl. You will learn to be pleased," he said this and gone was the unsure, awestruck man of not an hour ago. In his place was a man with purpose as he showered the inside of her thighs with small, reverent kisses. He came close to her center and kissed the trimmed mound, the tender skin at the juncture of her leg until she fairly begged him "Monsieur, please, your mouth." He chuckled against her leg and without warning, licked her folds with a long, slow motion. Katniss arched at the sensation, the care he took to make sure she felt his every stroke.

Meanwhile, he swirled his fingers around her wetness, bathing them before dipping them back inside of her, pumping with exquisite slowness as she writhed beneath him. The action of his lips and his fingers caused such a fit of thrashing in her, he had to placed a forearm across her hips to hold her still. When his lips descended on the hardened nub of her desire, she became a bursting star. Without warning, Katniss felt the explosion in her body and spasms of pleasure that were almost painful in their intensity radiating from her core to every extremity of her body. She was so lost in the blinding undulations of her orgasm that Peeta's penetration took her by surprise, her contractions pulling him into her.

He met no resistance but compared to his fingers, she felt stretched and full beyond her capacity by his large cock. He took one of her legs and placed it over his shoulder, sinking with a loud groan all the way into her. Katniss let out a loud, animal-like sound that was half his name, half a wail that resonated through the small house, causing Johanna to appear briefly at the door with weapon drawn in a semi-panic. At the look of ecstasy in their hot, sweaty bodies, she shook her head and withdrew quietly without either of them noticing.

Peeta's muscles bunched and sweat ran in rivulets down his back as he drove into her, watching her face as he took her again and again. He had been overcome with compassion for her but now his need made him slightly mad, pounding her body as she moaned noisily with every thrust. He pushed her legs down to her shoulders, opening her to him like a blooming hyacinth. He claimed her womanhood like a herdsman brands his livestock, with red-hot iron until the mark on the creatures are unmistakable to all who looked on them. So Katniss was branded by Peeta's possession until another wave began to crest over her, threatening to drown her beneath it. Peeta's mouth crashed down on hers so that she tasted her sex on his lips. He savored every sensation this woman gave him as if he had finally found his purpose in this universe after having been alone for so long.

As he felt his own release nearing, he reached between them and rubbed her hard clit until she fell apart and he took all of it – ever contraction, every gush of arousal and devoured it, his cock crashing into her as he spilled his release inside of her, his cries mixing with hers. Katniss clawed and bit him, leaving a trail of purple bite marks along his shoulder until he was empty and collapsed onto his forearms to keep from crushing her with his weight.

Katniss lay quiet and unsure beneath him, lost in her vulnerability. The silence of the night, punctuated by their slowing breaths was as deafening as their passionate moans of only a few moments earlier. With her other friends, there was always a glib comment, a charming complement to transition them to the inevitable exit, the promise of another visit soon. But she was pinned beneath Peeta's unspoken claim. She felt her body as her own for the first time and his effect on it – the bruises from the impact of his hips, the stickiness of his orgasm between her legs, the taste of his sweat on her lips. She had somehow gotten lost in the theater of her performance, becoming more than its star and was seized with a sudden, blinding fear of treading unknown territory.

So it was with surprise that she felt the moisture on her shoulder. Turning her face, she looked at Peeta, a man with whom she'd barely shared a complete thought and yet to whom she had exposed more intimacy than she had ever given to anyone else, releasing silent tears that slid down her shoulder and onto the sheet. He turned away, burying his sobs in the pillow, the suppression causing his large body to vibrate. Johanna appeared in the doorway to signal that the time would soon be up but Katniss waved her away. Johanna scowled unhappily at her but withdrew, closing the door behind her.

The force of Peeta's love for this grey-eyed mulatta of the cafe au lait-colored skin and honeyed voice had over-taken him with a certainty he had never felt during all the well-thought out projects and campaigns he had ever engaged in. In that moment of unmanly abandon, he cursed his integrity and thought of the wealth and power of the other men in her life, how little he could offer her in comparison except for the one thing that no white man would ever give her. At that moment, he steeled his resolve and, drying his eyes against the pillow, turned his head back to see her staring with those unearthly eyes gone black with intensity. He gathered her slim body to his hard chest and kissed her swollen lips, his hands fanning across her back, pressing her to him. He stroked her shoulders, her arms, her hips as he kissed and kissed and kissed her, small moans gathering and escaping Katniss' lips whenever he allowed her purchase to breath.

He finally pulled back to look at her hooded eyes and flushed expression. "I am a poor military man. My father was a baker and my life's desire was to travel the world and become a soldier. My family worked tirelessly to send me to the Ecole' Militaire so that I could learn the art of military conquest. It was my objective to become the best Capitaine in the French Army."

"I know your reputation," whispered Katniss. "They say you are blood-thirsty and cruel. White men and maroons alike fear you." She shivered as she said this.

He pushed her gently onto her back to stare down at her. "You have nothing to fear from me. I do what I must to avert greater evils but I would never hurt you." He said, running his hands over her face.

Katniss' thinking became confused. No one had touched her before in that way. "Why do you say these things to me?"

Peeta kissed her again, leaving her breathless. "Because I love you and want to give you the only thing of worth that I have. I place my name at your feet. Marry me, and I will give you respectability."

She was taken aback by this and attempted to protest – how could one like him marry someone like her? He would be ridiculed in good society and though she did not care a fig about the wagging tongue of gossip, for the first time, the fate of another became more worthy to her than her own. He would be ruined.

He silenced her attempts at protest with a large finger pressed gently over her lips.

"We will go away, to France or Cuba or even the Americas where no one will know us"

Katniss sat up suddenly, startling Peeta as she moved to kneel next to him on the bed. The candle on the sideboard had almost burned out completely and what remained was the cool light of the waning moon.

"Monsieur Capitaine…" started Katniss with some severity.

"Peeta," he interrupted.

Katniss took a steadying breath. "Peeta. I am not of a marrying kind. I have no skills beyond the ones you have seen," she spread her hands wide to indicate her body. "You have only just met me…"

"I do not need more time to know that you should be mine," he said with what she perceived was his commanding tone, the kind that would likely have made many a subordinate cringe in fear.

"You've only just met me," she repeated slowly and with equal steel, "and there is the matter of my profession. It is not respectable but it affords me a certain independence that I value. It is not…uncommon…for men to become infatuated with me…"

It was Peeta's turn to sit completely up, his large body uncurling from its attitude of repose. Katniss' breath hitched in her throat. It was no wonder that both enemies and friends could be intimidated by him.

"You seem to mistake me for a boy just come off of a ship from France, m'lady. I am easily ten years your senior and I have learned that there are moments in a man's life when he must rely on intimations that exceed logic and rationality and can only best be called his wits. I have reached the rank of Capitaine by trusting in things that the human mind does not arrive at by rational means alone." He took her hands in his, the stern aspect of his features softening, causing her courage to falter. "When I laid eyes upon you in that fetid market, I knew by means of this faculty that I had to have you no matter the cost to me."

Katniss had no response for this, nor did he wait for one as he continued.

"If your obstacle is economy, I will work day and night to ensure your comfort. If it is the scorn of society that gives you pause, we will change that society. If you fear entrapment, you will have all the freedom to which you are entitled as a creature of God, certainly more than the poor beasts who toil on the plantations of this cursed island. But I will not accept your refusal on the merit of these obstacles. However, if your heart tells you that I will never be more than an infatuated client for you, then I will thank you for giving a man a brief glimpse of that paradise that awaits all good souls and never burden you with my company again."

At these words, Katniss was seized with a sudden panic. Never see him again? Impossible! It occurred to her that in a few short hours, he'd unwittingly cast a bright light onto her dim existence and she would go blind if he took his radiance away.

"Sir," she whispered, "I am not indifferent to you. You have brought a strange and sudden happiness to me," he reached a hand up to stroke her cheek. "But I am too pragmatic to believe that the sudden onset of love you claim can be relied upon. I must know the resolution of what you propose before I play roulette with our lives."

Peeta took her hands and kissed her knuckles, pondering her statement.

"In two days' time, I must depart for a an excursion to the Western Island. The campaign will detain me for one month. Upon my return, I will seek you out. Put your affections to the test. Examine your heart. If your sentiments remain pure and true, I will marry you the very day of my return. But if you excavate and discover the seed of doubt, I will honor your desires and delay you no further."

Katniss was enraptured by the movement of his lips as he spoke but she listened to his words with her heart. She possessed her own instincts as well and they told her what her mind could not believe - that his devotion was indeed genuine. She nodded her head at his words.

"I will wait and consider what you have spoken."

She was rewarded with a smile so sincere, his countenance became that of a young man, a luminous beauty that brought the prickling of tears to her eyes, full of warmth and a touch of shyness. He reached across to kiss her and, in one swift, deft move, lifted her over his lap and impaled her with his waiting erection. Katniss gasped in surprise, wrapping her legs around his waist as he lifted her easily over him. She pushed his head back and kissed him, ravaging his mouth as his cock ravaged her center. He leaned back against the headboard and Katniss quickly shuffled her knees beneath her, arching over him while he drove into her, his hips bucking upwards to meet hers. She tightened her well-practiced muscles around him, which caused him to call out her name in a long moan. With every thrust, she squeezed him until the universe compressed into that one boiling point where they were joined and exploded outwards, a crashing wave of human joy cresting over them both until they fluttered down from that ethereal place into a boneless knot of arms and legs.

Burying his face in her dark hair, he whispered fiercely as the sun broke over the horizon, "Promise me, my grey-eyed pearl, promise me that you will think about what I have said."

"I promise." said Katniss, reserving for herself the conviction and attendant terror that she already knew her answer.

**XXXXX**

**Inspired by the novel **_**Island Beneath the Sea**_ **by Isabel Allende. If the interest is sufficient, I will continue this fic. It is outlined for five chapters.**

**Each chapter features an alternating Haitian-Creole poem and a French song to represent my protagonists.**

**A heartfelt thanks goes out to Esq2u for recommending this novel and suggesting I write an Everlark story based on the Violette Boisier/Etienne Relais storyline. So, here you are darling and Happy Birthday!**

**I also must thank my brilliant and indispensable beta, Solasvioletta who happens to have a delicious fic in the S2SL collection called **_**House of the Rising Sun**_**. **


	2. Permit Me

**I want to first of all apologize for the wait on this fic. Summertime is a great time to catch up on writing but as many of you know, I was away on vacation for five weeks so it was difficult to post things, though I managed two one-shots. My second apology is for the length of this author's note. I feel I have to give a bit of background before I can hand over this chapter to you. I understand if you want to skip this part :).**

**The religion of Saint Domingue (the island that holds the current Dominican Republic and Haiti; we are only interested in the French half, or Haiti) was and still is Voodoo and Catholicism. There are many deities or Loas that are worshiped but the ones that I focus on are Erzuli, the Loa of Love and Water, who appears as a snake or a beautiful woman in water, and Dumballah, who is her sometimes spouse. He is older than the sensuous Goddess and is considered the most benevolent of the Loas. You will often find him referred to as Papa Dumballah. Followers generally invoke the Loas by chanting, offering gifts and dancing until the Loa "mounts" them or fills them up. The supplicants take on characteristics of their Loa. Most of the time, Erzuli will fill a follower with well-being, good health and joy but in her incarnation as Love, she mounts her followers privately. It results in a very sensual experience.**

**The Haitian Slave Uprising - it is considered the only successful slave uprising in history. It was violent and bloody, as slaves took their anger out on the plantation owners, petit blancs (landed and unlanded but well-to do whites), affranchis (free mulattos like Katniss and Annie) and anyone perceived to be an enemy of emancipation including poor whites who did not own slaves. You will see that it is a complex history of alliances and betrayals but I have simplified many of the players. For example, the Maroons enjoyed patronage, at times, from the English, Spanish and even the French themselves in a twist that leads to the conflict that is the climax of this story.**

**I've provided a timeline of events to help guide the reader. in 1782, Katniss would have been 12. Therefore, her current age is 20, which, in its day, was considered a ripe age for a women. Peeta is actually 15 years her senior in this fic - or 35. **

**And so, without further ado…**

**Chapter 2: Permit Me**

_**The noise the pillow makes wakes me**_

_**the noise of your hair in my dreams**_

_**the noise of your eyes in my heart,**_

_**of your footsteps in my mind,**_

_**of your whole body**_

_**on my back**_

_**Go on, my love!**_

_**Walk through the house any way you want!**_

_**May the moon help you walk over me,**_

_**may the oleander find a path in your hair!**_

_**Go on, my love!**_

_**Walk through my house any way you prefer!**_

_**Don't let anyone oppose you!**_

_**Make me feel your footfalls in my very foundation!**_

**-frome Lesepase (Permit) by Sito Kave; translated by Jack Hirschmann**

_**Summer, 1782**_

Madam Trinket came to learn of the death of Monsieur Everdeen and the tragic suicide of his wife long after the affair had tired the wagging tongues of gossip in Le Cap. It pained her heart deeply - Monsieur Everdeen had shown her a great kindness in their youth and preserved their friendship with an impatient disregard for the differences in their class. Madame Trinket was one of the white-born, petit blancs of which the island abounded - descendents of the French colonists who had first settled the island at the turn of the century. Her father had been a seaman on many a boat entering and exiting the treacherous, treasure-and thief-laden ports of the Caribbean. He died when Madam Trinket turned of age, much like the young charge she now sought out. She had not had the fortune of an abundant, albeit dissolute, estate to maintain her well-being with the nuns as did Mr. Everdeen's daughter. So from a tender age, she quickly learned to use the gifts which nature had so generously endowed her - quick intelligence, the ability to dissimulate in any society as if she had been born to it, and a persistence that was close to indefatigable. Her physical attributes - silky blond hair and gentle light-blue eyes - were more than adequate to assist her survival but they were not of the rare and exotic exquisiteness of the girl she now took to her home. No, Madame Trinket had prospered and earned a discreet place in society because of her ingenuity and astute business acumen.

In deference to her great friendship with Monsieur Everdeen, Madame Trinket could not see the child turned out onto the street after the auctioning off of the last of her father's hard-earned wealth. Neither would Katniss become one of the common girls of her bordello, if those girls could even be considered common by any standard. Madam Trinket owned and managed one of the most exclusive "gentlemen's clubs" of Le Cap, a place of such meticulous discretion that men of high rank and bottomless ambition used the club as a meeting place to discuss matters best kept hidden from the Assembly (the governing body of the island, comprised of the most powerful plantation owners). The older woman had overheard more than a few seditious conversations among those power-hungry men to such a degree that she had cause, on occasion, to avail herself of the information gleaned to induce one gentleman or another to behave favorably towards her interests.

Even at the age of 12, Madame Trinket saw in Katniss' slender, luminous beauty a fierce reserve of character, a swift intelligence and an uncanny ability to see beneath the illusions of lies and misrepresentations to arrive at the truth of things as they truly were. To possess so powerful a gift at such a young age was nothing less than prodigious. Madam Trinket had found her protege and endeavored to bestow upon her the wealth of her skill to ensure that the girl would prosper where other women were consumed. In deference to the girl's character, Madame Trinket chose to speak to her as an equal from that very young age.

"Mademoiselle Everdeen. The first lesson you must learn is that beauty is a weapon, not a gift. Therefore, you must learn to sharpen your weapon as soldiers sharpen their bayonets."

For the girl's part, Katniss was at first diffident towards the older, painted woman. She did not fully understand the purpose of her new home right away, though she did not suffer either. The women in the home treated her gently, with a few exceptions, whom Madame Trinket swiftly disavowed for their insolence and envy. The awareness of Katniss' circumstances unfolded upon her slowly, as her skill and craft increased. But Katniss was a girl forged from an iron character and learned to be calculating and indifferent to the vicissitudes of her trade. She had never carried romantic notions of love or marriage and took in Madame Trinket's lessons with the enthusiasm of one who learns to swim because her survival depends entirely upon it.

Katniss was a survivor and her determination to survive was older than her consciousness of it. She learned to wield her weapon as an archer learns to deliver his arrows, with equal and devastating efficacy. Her reserved nature and penchant for seriousness was converted into mystery, her tendency towards silence only increased the perception of her etherealness. The femininity that Katniss cultivated as her armor, the pure unaffected composure of a woman who appeared to hold the secrets of life cradled in her bosom, became the shield she projected to the world.

Not long after her arrival, she met Johanna Mason, a newer acquisition in Madam Trinket's parlor of delights that was the common area of the bordello. From the first, Johanna revealed her taciturn disposition and fierce, warrior-like nature. Madame Trinket soon regretted the purchase of that mulatta for she turned men away in terror of her ferocious countenance. There was only one person in that bordello who befriended Johanna and that was Katniss herself, who recognized that beneath her vulgar exterior lived a kindred spirit similar to the one she, herself, hid behind the artifice of her craft. Katniss understood Johanna - her indomitable will and intolerance of trifles which, to her, encompassed a great deal of the many activities that engaged most people. Katniss shared Johanna's complete impatience with the whole human enterprise. This decision to defend her dear friend was doubly propitious when Johanna proved her utility, not as a temptress but as the protector of the ever-more desirable jewel of Madame Trinket's collection of courtesans.

By the time she was 16, Katniss had become something of a legend. Demand was great for her exotic allures and Madame Trinket cultivated her exclusivity with fastidious possessiveness, teaching Katniss to be selective until she only kept the company of the most important personages in the city. She taught Katniss the value of independence so that when Madame Trinket passed into the eternal slumber of night, she left Katniss a respectable quantity of gold and the possession of Mademoiselle Mason, enabling her two preferred charges to pursue their profession in an enviable state of independence.

From the beginning, the dynamic of the two women was set. They established their independent residence in a small but tidy house in the Seam quarter. Johanna managed expenses and negotiated fees as well as protected Katniss from the occasional excessively passionate suitor. It was Johanna who suggested the private loans and steep interest that soon proved to be the most efficient means of investing the money that Katniss earned. Katniss and Johanna had managed, through luck, talent and shrewd determination to carve for themselves a profitable existence in the underbelly of an island where unattached women of color were normally destined to eke a meager subsistence plagued by abuse, disease and, at best, silence and obscurity.

**XXXXX**

_**June, 1790**_

Katniss lay in the steaming bath, breathing in the sweet aroma of the petal-strewn water. The delicate claw that held her pearl lay possessively in the valley of her breasts, floating slightly over her left as if standing guard over her heart. Her reverie was replete with images of a crystal mountain lake towering with reeds that obscured the clear waters from the envious eyes of idle travelers. In this secret lake, she floated, eyes closed, dark hair streaming languidly behind her. She was naked, of course, and quite without the preoccupations of her day-to-day existence, which generally consisted of haggling over the pleasure of her body. She often dreamed of this fairy lake, full of longing for its crisp, cool solitude, knowing in her heart that she could live a life along the banks of its still, lonely waters.

Except that there now intruded in her peaceful and solitary day-dream the image of another wading gently into the water towards her reclining form. As he reached his hand out to her, she felt neither fear nor mortification. She was instead filled with a deep satisfaction and yet a profound longing all at once. The cool droplets of water that clung to his powerful fingers dripped over her stomach as his hand ghosted over her, teasing her with its indecision. Wherever the shadow of his hand fell, her untouched flesh prickled to life, yearning for his caress. Her trembling became such that she lost her balance and was forced to let her legs fall to the muddy lake bottom. She opened her eyes to capture his blue ones and felt herself smile, not one of her false, porcelain smiles best reserved for the theater of her nightly performances, but a genuine one full of adoration. She stepped into his cool, solid arms and drank in the sight of him.

"You've returned," she whispered, running her fingers over the rivulets of water that flowed over his powerful arms.

"As I swore I would." he responded before lowering his head to capture her lips with his. She shuddered in anticipation and did not hear her name being called until she felt Rue's small hand brush against her wet shoulder.

"Katniss!" she called again. "Do you sleep?"

Katniss shook the vision from her head, though its imprint would remain with her the entire day. "No. I was lost in thought." She straightened up in the cooling water, goosebumps springing up over her skin though the afternoon was warm and humid.

She cast her glance at Rue, the young slave girl that Johanna had convinced her to purchase to assist with the household, as Johanna's duties as enforcer and manager kept her busy most of the day. When she had brought her home to Katniss, she was nothing more than a 17 year old stick with protruding eyes and limbs, a burst of tangled, matted hair atop her otherwise lovely face. She had belonged to the cruel Seneca Crane and it was a week before the girl could be convinced to lift her eyes off the ground and look Katniss in the face. Remembering her confusing first days with Madame Trinket, Katniss could not help but melt in compassion for the mistreated girl. Johanna was almost convinced that Rue was mute and it was for this reason she had been sold for close to nothing. Yet one day, after having helped Katniss dress, Rue whispered in that sweet voice meant to belong to a bird, "May I fetch my lady a shawl for the evening?" to which Katniss could only nod dumbly while the girl wrapped her in it as if she were made of glass.

From that day, Rue blossomed under Katniss' care. She revealed herself to be somewhat in awe of Katniss' beauty and watched her with open admiration as she helped her with her toilette. It did not take Rue long to understand Katniss' vocation and in consequence tended her mistress with the extra care and gentleness that was so integral to her nature. Yet while she appeared to esteem Katniss to the degree one might call reverence, her rapport with Johanna was less formal. Once she threw off the intimidation that crippled the natural exercise of communication, she found in Johanna a stout and trustworthy companion. Rue had found relief from the offenses of her previous master.

As little Rue gently dried Katniss with a bit of worn silk, she hummed a tune that Katniss found soothing to her nerves. It had been several days since the Capitaine had departed after a night that, were it not for Johanna's confirmation of his existence, appeared to have been woven from the stuff of dreams. Even the mere thought of his skin against hers made Katniss feel feverish, her desire to do nothing more than lie in her bed and call to mind every detail of every sensation he had provoked in her almost overwhelmed her and sent her back to her room to seek release.

As Johanna would so delicately say, she was worse than a bitch in heat.

Katniss shook off the vision of herself between his powerful legs or the impression of his thick hands on her hips as he filled her up and focused instead on the task of preparing for the day before her.

"Come along now. The day waits for no one," she whispered, more to herself than to Rue.

**XXXXX**

After the departure of the Capitaine, Katniss resumed her routine with outward serenity, while her mind was a tumult of conflicting impressions. She could not be sure what her sentiments were, so sudden and complete was the Capitaine's effect on her. She was not particularly given to self-reflection and spent little, if any time at all on her emotions. In fact, she was so out of the habit of that deep thinking typical of the young women of her age that she was unprepared altogether for the strong feelings inspired by the Capitaine. Katniss was an observer and a thinker but she was rarely at the center of her own ruminations. So little did she value the tempest of sentimentality that she disdained it in herself before all others.

So Katniss carried on with the business of her life, willfully ignorant to the torrent growing inside of her whose name bore that of a certain blond-haired, blue-eyed Frenchman whose touch was as gentle as his reputation was fierce. She entertained her special friends, received their gifts with docile flirtatiousness, danced at their gentlemanly parties, fawned over them at the local theatre and crowned the sultry hours of midnight with the seasoning of her hips and thighs, all the while burying the torment of her longing under the minutiae of her day-to-day existence.

As the month wore on, it was this condition of predictability that Capitaine Mellark inadvertently capsized the moment he pursued that grey-eyed creature in the market. For instead of the meticulous practice of her profession, he had made it impossible for her to be with anyone else. The indifference and premeditation with which she'd exercised her vocation had fled her and when she attended her friends, she felt altogether imposed upon. She managed her appointments in an increasingly clumsy manner for her standard, though perfectly serviceable to the men with whom she trysted, oblivious as they were to the momentous tectonic shift that had taken place in her soul. Katniss flirted, moved her lean muscles, walked with the same sultry slowness of a woman who would not be rushed by anyone. Her body was as it had always been but her mind and soul had been filled up with Peeta as surely as Loa Erzuli, the island goddess of love, filled the blushing young virgin on her night of consummation.

Katniss did not normally indulge the superstitions of that sweltering island. She was a girl who had been educated on the tenants of the French Enlightenment outside of the parenthesis of religious education at St. Albino's. Though not given to esoteric philosophy (certainly, Johanna would be the last to accompany her on such an intellectual journey), she had nonetheless been immune until that point to the vagaries of voodoo and the practice of magic, combating the grip of collective madness with Rationalism and Scientific Reason.

And yet she had no other explanation for the drunk, hungry state Peeta had left her in after their first night together. She felt like she had eaten, not of earthly mangos, but of the fruit of Loa Erzuli herself. The sticky, lusty nectar of the Goddess moved throughout her body at the mere memory of Peeta's strong hands. Katniss toyed with the cool, round pearl, rolling it against her lips as if it were a kiss from the very giver himself. At night, when Erzuli descended to flirt and provoke her, she dreamed of his deep blue eyes, the battle-scarred skin and lips so deceptively soft against her, she heard her own moans in the sweltering heat of her lonely bedroom. In those tropical nights of suffocating humidity, she dreamed that she danced with the Loa who held her in place as Peeta entered her and with a deft sweep of her small fingers, she rose into the gyrating sky, heady with the phantasm of his spirit self moving through her, mounting her until Erzuli herself captured their spiraling souls and brought them both gently back down to earth.

The moment came when Johanna, carrying the tell-tale calling card of the Port Secretary, found Katniss swooning under the weight of her discontent. Shedding violent tears of repulsion, she ripped the card from Johanna's hand and, with a sob of fury, tore the card to shreds. The thick ribbons of expensive paper fluttered to the lavishly carpeted floor as Katniss flung herself across the bed, her lithe, young body wracked with anguished grief.

"Katniss!" exclaimed Johanna, attempting in every way to calm her dear friend, murmuring in her ear as she caressed her back. Seized by a terrible wonder at the uncommon sight of Katniss rendered incomprehensible by emotion, Johanna whispered, "Is it the Capitaine, again?"

Katniss could do nothing more than nod vigorously as understanding dawned on Johanna. "We are ruined!" she said softly, then with more anger, "Erzuli has poisoned my lady and now we are all ruined!"

Katniss gasped loudly into the air and then moaned, rocking in place like the medicine women she'd seen in the sensuous dances of the slave quarter. "You speak to me of voodoo and Loas and I do nothing more than dream of their accursed influence! There is no such thing..."

"Then you are the fool!" said the fierce girl. "That man has come upon you like the Evil Eye. A curse, I tell you that could only come from a witch's madness. You have your pick of any man you wish, or none if you so desire. And yet you swoon over this poor man who can do nothing but dress you in common clothes and hide you away in some pauper's apartment for his amusement..."

"He asked to marry me, Johanna," Katniss said in a small voice.

"You can't think he was serious!" Johanna exploded in shock. When Katniss did not answer, she became wild with indignation. "You have been propositioned with more enticing rewards than marriage to a miserable military man! There is the buccaneer, Cato Alexander, who offered to keep you lavishly as his concubine and he is worth the weight of 100 Peeta Mellarks in gold! Why, in the name of the Virgin, would you become infatuated with a man who can give you so little? To not speak of his reputation." Johanna paced angrily.

Katniss considered her friend's words, descending into confusion as her rational mind sided with Johanna and chided her passionate soul. There was an answer to be found in the chaos of her debilitated heart but she had no words to describe it to her friend, who understood all things except the love sickness that had taken root within. "You don't know him. It's not what he can give to me...it is that he offered everything...all that he has...all that I can want..."

"You've never aspired to matrimony before! You were the first to scoff at the idea! And now you would hand over your youth, your beauty, your _freedom_, for a marriage contract?"

Katniss put her hand up to her now clammy forehead, squeezing her eyes shut while her other hand impulsively curled around Peeta's pearl. Johanna was right, of course. She had no good excuse for this raptus that had taken over her. They had placed men in a category, like a resource to be mined when needed, an enterprise to be undertaken. Had they not profited from the lust of men for most of their womanly lives? And yet Katniss would throw it all over for a powerful but poor one, who would leave frequently for campaigns and whose lack of wealth would keep her out of the theater and the entertainments she had grown accustomed to? All because of her uncontrollable lust or infatuation?

But it was nothing as trite as lust or infatuation, her traitorous heart whispered urgently. She dared not say this to Johanna but she was indeed sickened by some magic that robbed her of her reason. She feared that this particular magic was as old as Papa Dumballah himself.

"You have a fever." said Johanna after touching Katniss' forehead. "I will call Mother Seeder to visit you. Maybe she can cast out this affliction that has befallen you. It will not do to be so ill-served by girlish fantasies and delusions." With that, Johanna leapt up and ran straightaway out of their house and down the lane.

How to explain the desire that the Capitaine provoked in Katniss at the mere thought of their night together? How could Johanna understand that money and jewels had no value in themselves, but for the freedom and safety they brought? How to elucidate the epiphany that had suddenly seized Katniss, the mystery that had eluded her since her mother had chosen death over a life without her father - that she feared it was love that had infected her? Love - perilous, soul-encompassing love because it promised another kind of freedom altogether, a more treacherous freedom that valued its own survival over all the bars of gold they had amassed together.

Katniss had become a diseased creature indeed.

**XXXXX**

Capitaine Mellark gathered his men under the direct orders of Commandante Snow, commander of the French forces of Saint Domingue. The ride out to the Northwest Island was known to be a diabolical one. The French High Command feared an attempted ambush by Maroons - escaped slaves that made up the rebel army of Giya Makkubbe, the slave once known as Gale Hawthorne - and so Commandante Snow ordered a group of soldiers led by Capitaine Mellark to escort the plantation owners and members of the Assembly to a secret meeting with the Maroon leader to ensure their safety. Unrest on the larger plantations was believed to be coordinated by Maroons in an attempt to destabilize the economic machine that demanded the existence of slaves. On an island where fewer than 15% of the population were free and the remaining souls were wretched slaves, it was in the best interest of that small but powerful minority to seek out a resolution to maintain that precarious balance. However, despite the potential for violence, it was an uneventful journey. It was clear to the Capitaine that Giya Makkubbe had upheld his part of the truce.

The ride through the sweltering forest sorely tested Capitaine Mellark's equanimity. This part of the island was particularly savage and physical discomforts were multiplied by the excess of insects and the stifling heat. Horses struggled over the rocky terrain and fallen trees. In the middle of the tediousness was also another source of unease, the relief of which could only be found in a small house nestled in the Seam quarter of Le Cap over two days' ride away.

The moment the raucous silence of the forest descended upon the traveling entourage, Capitaine Mellark's thoughts flew directly to where they always seemed to reside of late. She came to him at all hours of the day and night to torment him with desire. In his visions, her grey eyes stared up at him with a secret knowledge that he would gladly give his life to discover. Katniss held her vigil in the tender chambers of his warrior heart, and he felt he had exchanged some vital piece of his soul with her..

He prayed that the days would march by more quickly, for in the middle of his fantasies of her exquisite lips and radiant eyes lived his secret fear, one that emphasized the significant disadvantages of his claim upon her. He was not wealthy, owned little land, and though respectable in his profession, he was an untitled gentleman with no independent means. He had discreetly used his connections to investigate and discovered that Katniss was frequented by the highest society of the Antilles. She was right when she said that men often became infatuated with her and offered to keep her in various arrangements that would assure her material comforts, but these were all declined because of her well-known desire for independence.

His heart ached when he considered that he had nothing to offer except a name that was worth less than most. On some nights he became so despondent, his hopelessness caused him to renounce any expectation from her. He longed to rip his desire for her from his heart so that he could avoid the impending disappointment of her rebuff.

But he was greedy and knew he would have no peace until he saw her again. His fingers itched to touch her, his mouth flooded with the idea of tasting her again and he knew for all his authority, he would wait for the smallest encouragement to possess her again. Even her ambivalence would be acquiescence to him and he would labor under any conditions to have her again.

The sudden whinnying of the horses roused him from his obsessive contemplation of Katniss. Their entourage had arrived at an opening of a valley ringed by mountains and sliced conveniently by two passes that opened on opposing sides of the field from which emerged each group. In the middle of the clearing was a table set up with a approximately 30 chairs. Capitaine Mellark quickly dispatched his first in command, Lieutenant Mitchell, to examine the situation. Behind him was his frequent companion and interlocutor, Dr. Finnick Odair, the highest ranking military doctor on the island. Capitaine Mellark heard the doctor's horse make its way alongside him as the scout's report was collected.

"Have we arrived?" asked Dr. Odair, wiping the perspiration from his brow with a finely embroidered handkerchief. He was considered an exceptionally handsome man by all who met him and though this brought him some renown, it was his skill as a doctor for which he was most famous. This was in no small part a result of the tolerance he demonstrated towards the native practices of the island's voodoo medicine. He was known to keep the strictest confidence with Mother Seeder, the oldest and most respected medicine woman on the island.

At that very moment, Lieutenant Mitchell returned, "There is a company of Maroons the size of a regiment and well armed, Capitaine. They wait beyond the meeting point at one hundred meters north of the eastern pass. However, Monsieur Makkubbe and his counselors have offered to abandon their arms as a sign of good faith, sir, if we do so also in full view of their company."

"Fetch Monsieur Crane," commanded Capitaine Mellark. He did not want anyone to confuse his role at this summit. He was nothing more than an escort and upholder of French law, not a negotiator or peacekeeper. The heavy plodding of hooves made him aware of the arrival of Monsieur Crane, the appointed representative of the plantation owners.

"The Maroon leader requests that you enter the negotiation fields without arms. What is your group's intent?" Mellark took in the image of a tall, sallow- skinned man who appeared to have a firmer grip on his riding crop than his appetite. Plantation owners were a distasteful lot to him - unnecessarily cruel to their captive subjects but obsequious to the point of nausea in the presence of men of their own social class. The clear delineation of rights and behaviors of the military was understandably affronted by such cowardly behavior.

"He jokes! We won't expose ourselves to the caprice of that savage lot!" he exclaimed. Dr. Odair raised a derisive eyebrow behind the man's back.

Capitaine Mellark bit his tongue to keep from insulting the man and instead called forth all of his good breeding in formulating a response. "Sir, it is not an unreasonable request and common amongst men of honor."

"Men! Those are not men! We will descend with our arms intact and they may likewise do the same," concluded Crane with petulant finality.

Capitaine Mellark gave the man a hard look of disdain before dispatching his Lieutenant with their response. The Capitaine continued to glare back at Monsieur Crane, satisfied to see the man cringe in intimidation.

"Be forewarned, Monsieur Crane, that if I lose even one of my men to this misadventure, I will call you personally to accounts." He pronounced this with such cool authority that there was no doubt in anyone's mind of the veracity of the Capitaine's intent. Before the man could sputter a response, Capitaine Mellark signaled to his men to begin their descent into the valley.

**XXXXX**

The meeting was a spectacular failure. Monsieur Crane's ill disposition was indicative of the prejudice the entire group of plantation owners carried into their negotiations. Nothing less than the full surrender of the Maroons and their return to the fields would pacify those gentlemen. Capitaine Mellark studied Giya Makkube - a tall, muscular mulatto with eyes the same color as Katniss. He was in possession of a composure borne of the authentic experience of survival. He was not a political construction like the Frenchman that stood before him loaded with insults. He was a quiet man filled with the conviction of the perfect morality of his cause. Makkube exchanged frequent probing glances with Mellark as each concession requested by the Maroon leader was rejected.

"The owners' intractability will be the ruin of this island," commented Capitaine Mellark to Dr. Odair as they made their way back to the encampment.

"There is no economic incentive for them to grant wages to slaves when it is more profitable for them to consume and replace them every six months," his companion commented wryly as they made their way along a wild collection of plantain trees.

"And yet it would be a small concession to quell the unrest on the larger plantations," demurred Peeta. "Nothing short of a royal decree of emancipation will truly move the owners to grant any freedoms to the slave population."

"Which in the spirit of justice, they have earned in the form of the abolition of the slave trade in France." answered Dr. Odair as he swatted away a large mosquito. "The privilege of freedom granted to slaves on the continent will only spur more rebellion to those who have the misfortune of being born on the island."

"I fear the unrest will be more than the army can quell," muttered the Capitaine ominously. "It has been difficult already to procure the men necessary to supervise a peaceful population. It will require three times the number we have now to tame an enraged populace."

Dr. Odair considered this for a moment, giving the Capitaine a sidelong look. "It would seem our commission is most assured for a time."

"Indeed. I rather hoped to continue another year before returning to France. I tire of the instability." He became pensive at this and for awhile, they rode along in silence, the only sounds coming from the dragonfly wings that sped by, the cacophony of singing birds, and the occasional far-away whoop of an ape or other wild beast. After a bit, Dr. Odair dispersed the silence between the two men.

"I have considered retiring and relocating my family to New Orleans. I have very good friends who have found it to be a very opportune city. French is spoken and it is as good as living in Le Cap except without the threat of slaves poisoning your water at every turn."

An image of Katniss sprang unbidden to his mind and, quite without knowing why, he decided to unload some of his heart's burden. "Truth be told, I have thought of late of a complete retirement from service. I am 35 and desire to take up my father's profession." he began tentatively.

"Ah, I recall your father was a baker. I am sure New Orleans would be greatly enriched by a good patisserie of the French school," chuckled Dr. Odair.

Capitaine Mellark smiled at this before adding, "It would allow me to live with relative anonymity, which would be advantageous for the lady I have propositioned."

Dr. Odair pulled up short with his horse, shortening the distance between them and the men who rode in formation behind them. Recovering his shock, he sped his horse up to keep the pace with the Capitaine. "Permission to speak freely, sir."

Capitaine Mellark chuckled at this. "Permission granted."

"Peeta, you have been a poor friend indeed. A lady! And a marriage proposal!" exclaimed Finnick. "Has she accepted?"

Peeta smiled sheepishly. "I cannot say for sure. I will know when I return to Le Cap."

"Ah...and how long have you been acquainted? I have never heard you speak of her," probed Finnick.

"Not very long." Peeta's face grew red from embarrassment. Though his affections and intentions were in no way lessened toward Katniss, he was acutely aware of the effect his proposal would have on others, even in such a libertarian soul as Finnick Odair.

"Come now, sir! Why do you hesitate? It is not an...induced marriage...is it?" Finnick asked as delicately as he could.

"No! By my honor, she is neither with child nor is the marriage arranged. I have proposed of my own free will to bind myself to the lady from an impulse born of pure devotion. She will be my wife unencumbered by any of society's constraints," he responded heatedly.

Finnick smiled with satisfaction at the sight of his Capitaine in the throes of a passionate emotion that was neither anger nor offense. "Who is this creature who has bound the great Bloodhound himself with the leash of matrimony?"

"You will have occasion to make her acquaintance if she accepts my hand," said Peeta cautiously. "Her surname is Everdeen."

Finnick's brow furrowed as he attempted to recall the family. "The name is familiar to me. Annie has an acquaintance who is owned by a Madame Everdeen - Johanna Mason. But she would not be the same, I think. The family went into dissolution after the death of the father. He left all his material belongings to the wife. However, she lost her senses after the death of her husband and committed suicide, leaving only the daughter and the estate in questionable stewardship. I believe the girl is a courtesan now and quite magnificent by repute." He waited in silence for his friend to respond but Peeta remained quiet, piquing his friend's curiosity further. "Come now, friend. Is your lady a relation to this Everdeen?"

Peeta took in a steadying breath. "She is the very same."

Finnick's horse whinnied in confusion as his grasp on the rein tightened, then loosened quickly. For once, the good doctor was left without words and the effort to find the ones to use with his friend soon rendered him incomprehensible. With some delay, he finally recovered his wits.

"You must forgive my boldness, Peeta, for I do not wish to affront nor discourage your obvious affections but she would not be accepted in good society, even if she bore your name. She may be the most enchanting creature in all the Antilles..."

"So she is..." said Peeta absently.

"Yes, but it is the matter of her reputation that is of concern, and consequently its effect on yours," Finnick said with some agitation.

Peeta quelled his instinct towards anger and tried to engage his friend in the thoughts that had tormented him these last days. "I care not a whit for _Good Society_. Today, _Good Society_ has assured that this island will march towards civil war. _Good Society_ did not help a woman keep her estate for the benefit of an only child who in consequence was forced into a profession well below her station. Her most frequent patrons are from this _Good Society_ that I must now take account of in deciding my life's happiness. No, hang _Good Societ_y! I will do as my conscience dictates and let _Good Society_ care of itself!"

Finnick wiped his sweaty brow, considering his friend's words as they continued toward the river crossing that would take them to the city of St. Louis du Nord where they would take their evening rest before resuming the journey to Le Cap.

The doctor's silence disconcerted Peeta and while changing scouts and ordering his men, he brought his horse to the river's edge next to Finnick's. He allowed the beast to have it's fill while waiting for Finnick to break the silence of the last three quarter hour.

As if on command, Finnick turned to his friend. He had been blessed with eyes that were as green as the sea leaves that washed ashore, eyes that recalled the drawings of mermen in the storybooks of Peeta's youth. His copper hair was matted to his head and appeared dark brown from the sweat that drenched his scalp. Humidity sat upon them like a second skin and Peeta longed to rip the material of his uniform from his body and fling it into the water.

"Finnick..." began Peeta finally.

"No, Peeta. Let me speak. There are moments that reveal a person's character, holding up as it were a mirror of the truth of a conviction. I have encountered this moment and failed. I am a hypocrite and I am sorry," he held out his hand which Peeta gladly accepted. "I have taken Annie as my wife despite her mixed blood, which the law would deem inferior. I have paid the consequences in influence and lost friendships and yet I would not trade a hair on my children's head for even one false friend." He twisted the horse's reins in his hand as he considered his next statement. "You are admirable, my friend, to pursue your heart's desire without concern for the world's opinion. I would happily make your fiance's acquaintance and welcome her into the bonds of sincere friendship."

"Thank you," said Peeta with deep feeling. "I do not believe that an individual should be condemned to a lifetime of infamy for circumstances beyond their influence. Why should I not have the wife of my choosing simply because she was constrained by misfortune to earn her keep in any way she could? Why should she be exempt from the enjoyment of true companionship with a man who will cherish her simply because life has forced her down an ignoble path? I have investigated her and she is a miracle of survival under most unfortunate circumstances. Knowing the details of her struggles makes my bond to her stronger, not weaker. I desire the world's sanction but I will have her without it, if I must."

Finnick nodded approvingly and smiled his witty, conspiratorial smile. "Take care, Capitaine. You sound more and more like an abolitionist every day."

"I am a subject of France and of the principles that make her great. Though not all of those principles are present in this principality, I am still loyal to the law and uphold it with my life. I will become an abolitionist when France demands it."

"A nobler sentiment has never been uttered. However, principles are confirmed by actions and your actions are of a libertarian nature, my principled friend," said Finnick as he mounted his horse. There was no good response to this comment so the two men lapsed into a companionable silence for the remainder of their journey through the tangled vegetation of the tropical forest.

**XXXXX **

Later that evening as Peeta lay beneath the canopy of giant banana leaves, the thought of Katniss intruded on his meditation of the failed meeting. He hoped that he would become the only one with whom she could abandon herself to the enchantment of being cared for. He longed for her to permit him to cherish her. In his mind, her string of clients, patrons and admirers fell away like the scales of burnt flesh to reveal the fresh, pink bloom of newborn skin. He was unsentimental in matters of the world - he had seen enough to know that any tenderness of feeling should be buried deep within the armor of his hardened heart to ensure his survival. And yet the thought of Katniss liberated the better angels of his nature - a tender tolerance for a world that suddenly seemed more fragrant, more vibrant, and yet more vulnerable to the vulgarity of the times they lived in. He wanted nothing more than to shed his hardened persona and escape with her, like the first couple, back behind the spinning swords that guarded the entrance to Eden, behind the angels that would hold off the scourge of human bondage and the vendetta that he knew would soon engulf them all.

**XXXXX**

**Don't worry. You will have your Everlark in the next chapter!**

**I want to give my heartfelt thanks to esq2u for providing me with the idea and inspiration to write this fic. She recommended the novel **_**Island Beneath the Sea **_**and I have fallen in love with the novel as well. This fic is your baby. **

**I also want to thank solasvioletta, bubblegum1425 and peetabreadgirl, my trio of amazing betas, sounding boards and friends. SV in particular has stuck with me almost since the beginning and I'd be a perfect doofus without her. I have been truly blessed with bubblegum1425, who is brilliant and a wonderful writer. Peetabreadgirl offered to beta and she has been a gift to me and anyone she works with. You are my gals! **

**I also need to thank nightlockinthecave for the outstanding banners she has made for my fics. She is so gifted and fine - she is also a remarkable writer in her own right. I am lucky for the talent these ladies lend me!**

**Please review! I can't wait to talk to you all after being away for so long :).**


	3. Erzuli's Vision

**Chapters 2 and 3 were originally one chapter but at 13,000 words total, I decided to split it up and make this one a bit stronger. I am working on my Fandom4LLS submission, which I am excited about. It is also a worthy cause so if you can, donate to a good cause and receive a story collection of never before published fanfictions, including my newest piece, **_**The Ivory Maiden**_**, a reworking of the myth of Pygmalion and Galatea. I mean, Peeta and Finnick in togas? Who can resist!? The website is Fandom4LLS dot tumblr dot com.**

**One note: Mountings in Voodoo are the equivalent of being filled with the Holy Ghost in Christianity. So, when Mother Seeder talks about Loa Erzuli "mounting" her followers, she is literally "filling up" her followers. It has a somewhat sexual connotation because some Voodoo rituals are sexual in nature, especially ones involving Erzuli and Legba, who together form the unifying force of love and sexuality. I made a mistake to refer to Papa Dumballah as Erzuli's spouse in chapter two's Author's Note. He is actually the equivalent of Zeus in Greek Mythology and his coupled with Aiyida, the mother earth figure. The unifying force of love is actually Erzuli and Legba. Sorry!**

**Thanks to my betas, Solasvioletta, bubblegum1425 and peetebreadgirl and the incomparable nighlockinthecave for the wonderful banner (she is also making a banner for The Ivory Maiden - another reason to donate!).**

**Chapter 3 - Erzuli's Vision**

_**Erzuli's Vision**_

_**I have known many men.**_

_**I have danced Erzuli's dance with a hollow gourd for my heart.**_

_**I have been the dry beach that the ocean's tide never reaches.**_

_**I have been the mango tree that stands unbent.**_

_**But last night, as your hips lay flush against mine,**_

_**And the heavy smell of you weighed the air,**_

_**Erzuli entered me at last **_

_**Filled my empty coconut shell,**_

_**Drenched my lonely sands,**_

_**Ripped the tiny fruit buds from my branches.**_

_**I have become Erzuli's priestess**_

_**And I am your servant.**_

_**My hands tease the flesh from the stubborn papaya,**_

_**My skin is the swaying leaf of the banana tree.**_

_**You are the ripe cassava stalk rooted deep in the dark soil of my fertile soul.**_

_**We dance the dance of love at night**_

_**And play with the promise of release in the crepescules of morning.**_

_**Happiness now wears your skin**_

_**And carries your name.**_

_**I am the loa of your glistening tongue,**_

_**The spirit of our swollen lips,**_

_**The song of your thighs,**_

_**And you the Serpent of my soul.**_

**June, 1790**

"Mother Seeder!" announced Johanna upon her return. Katniss, with studied calm, gathered herself up to greet the medicine woman. Johanna became ever more aware of Katniss' disorientation and the effect on her nerves. The change in her mistress since the occasion of Capitaine Mellark's acquaintance was not lost on Johanna, provoking her darkest humor against the Bloodhound of Le Cap. It upset her immensely to see Katniss so unnerved and, had it been a less intimidating personage, Johanna would have resolved the situation in the only way she understood to solve things - through her secret connections and black tricks. As it was, Capitaine Mellark was not to be trifled with and, even worse, it would be the very object of her devotion, Katniss, who would suffer the most from her plot. Johanna could no more hurt Katniss than she could change the color of her skin.

"I...yes, of course." mumbled Katniss absently as she forced herself to be composed to receive Mother Seeder. Katniss surreptitiously cast her glance to the gilded red box, where her friends left their payments, and felt her stomach clench in anxiety. Lifting her chin almost defiantly against the debilitating feeling, she awaited the older woman's examination.

It was difficult to find Mother Seeder if she did not want to be found - many were her allies and friends. But Johanna, with her shadow connections that rivaled those of the Capitaine himself, could always locate her quickly. The old priestess had a fondness for those two mulatta girls that did not allow her to deny them audience. A renowned medicine woman known throughout the island, Mother Seeder was one of the few negroes that both freemen and slaves alike respected. It was said she flew along the winds of midnight and during voodoo ceremonies, required no chants or incantations to become filled with the spirit of Loa Erzuli, for of all the people on that island, she was the most beloved to the goddess for her devotion and skill. She could assist at the most difficult of childbirths, heal illnesses that not even the great military doctor, Finnick Odair (who often came to study at her elbow) had the means to cure and led the great voodoo ceremonies for the free and enslaved alike.

Johanna had found her in the home of Annie Odair, a mulatta free-born with three copper-haired children whose father was none other than the great Doctor Odair himself. As was common on this island of contradictions and social stratifications, mulatta women were kept by their white "husbands" without the privilege of marriage because it was alternately illegal (depending on the mood of the French Parliament) and socially disdained. This, however, did not keep the more valiant amongst the society from venturing into variations of that vaunted institution in defiance of the law. It was well-known that Odair was amongst those who not only disdained the opinion of society but was an open abolitionist. This would have kept a lesser citizen from the interactions of good society were it not for his renown as one of the best military doctors on the island.

All this, of course, was until now beyond Katniss' awareness, having never been very interested in matters of gossip, marriage or family, at least, not until Capitaine Mellark had presented her with his offer. She found his proposal afflicted her day and night for both its desirability and complete potential to disrupt the hard-earned yet fragile equilibrium of her life. How could she describe her state of mind to Johanna, who seemed hostile to all mention of the Capitaine? She feared she would be equally unsuccessful in discussing the matter with the old priestess.

Mother Seeder raised her hand in benediction, the wrinkles of at least 100 years quivering on her benevolent face under her smile. Her silver hair was a mass of tight curls like a halo around her head, an ivory bone embedded like a fine comb. She was not dressed in the high French fashion but in the simple, traditional shift of the island natives. She carried two ancient leather pouches around her neck and several coral bracelets with small figures carved on each link like charms. No one was sure of her age but it was rumored that she had seen the island first colonized. It was an impossibility in rational terms but that did not keep the islanders from believing the most outlandish aspects of her reputation. Like Katniss, Mother Seeder benefitted from the overzealous imaginations of the people around them to construct a reputation that, under examination, would exceed the limits of human logic.

As the three ladies sat, Katniss felt herself become pure, vibrating energy. She found herself on the very spot Capitaine Mellark had sat that fateful night and the memory of it was not lost on her body. Even under her composure, her heart raced and her mouth went dry. She feared at that moment she might lose her senses when Little Rue emerged from the kitchen with a small tea set, walking on silent feet towards the brocade settee. Katniss concentrated on Rue's movements, so like those of a small bird, as she set the tray on the small wood table before the three ladies. She curtseyed without looking Mother Seeder in the eye, a habit she occasionally lapsed into when she became nervous. Looking a master or freeborn of any color in the eye was a punishable offense but Katniss was not like most masters and could not tolerate that act of obeisance in her home.

"Rue!" Katniss hissed.

Mother Seeder observed the young girl. "Yes, dear. You are amongst friends. Look up at your equals, my child."

Katniss sat in a state of petrified shock. It was as if the older woman had read her mind. When Rue raised her dark brown eyes to Mother Seeder, the older woman signaled for the girl to come to her so she could place her gnarled hand upon the girl's forehead.

"Blessed child of Erzuli's magic, eat one egg each day and avoid the heat of midday. You must take special care of yourself. You know of what I speak?" asked the medicine woman gently. Johanna threw Rue a sharp look as the girl began to shake but Mother Seeder was able to calm even that terrified spirit. The older woman took Rue's hand and stroked the unease away.

"Yes, Mother Seeder." said Rue, barely above a whisper.

"Is she ill?" asked Katniss, momentarily forgetting her agitation in concern over her ward.

"No, not ill - blessed. Loa Erzuli has touched this girl. She will reveal her secrets in her own time, just as the moon becomes full in her time." Dismissing Rue, she turned towards Katniss, directing her next comments to her. "She is not the only one who has been touched by the Loas."

Katniss felt the blush of shame creep up her neck and as she often did when in need of calming, gently clasped the pearl around her neck. "Johanna can be overly cautious with me at times. It is only my nerves that torment me."

"Child," commented Mother Seeder gently. "Johanna is more than concerned about you. Johannna," she said, "would you bring a metal plate? Not too deep. My vision isn't what it once was." Mother Seeder chuckled to herself.

When Johanna left, she undid the leather tie of her necklace and opened the pouch. She set it on the table and a collection of bones and pebbles peeked out. These were the the implements of those ancient rituals that Seeder always carried with her. She wore another pouch around her neck, most likely a mojo bag similar to the ones Rue, Johanna and other slaves and mulattoes wore around their necks but the contents of those bags were never revealed.

Taking Katniss' hand gently in hers, she said "I will examine you for illness now." Chanting to herself, the older woman proceeded to evaluate Katniss. For her part, Katniss did as she was told, breathing in and out, moving her braid when it encumbered, widening her eyes and lips at the woman's request but she knew the older woman would find nothing. Johanna had since returned and sat in tense silence, waiting for Seeder to finish her examination.

"You do not appear ill," she said this as she ended her ministrations, "At least, not in body." She removed the contents of her pouch and let them tumble into the metal dish, the delicate sound of their clinking lilting through the small house. She reached around to Katniss' braid and without warning, undid the thick rope of glossy hair. She isolated a strand from each side of her head and yanked two from her scalp, earning a suppressed yelp from Katniss.

"Sorry, dear. The Loas can be so very demanding," she chuckled again as she dropped Katniss' hair into the metal dish. She swirled her dry concoction and began chanting again. Until that moment, Katniss had sat patiently, repressing her skepticism, quite unmoved by the spectacle of the dark, wrinkled woman who seemed to radiate benevolence, laboring over her with the tools of her trade. But as Mother Seeder chanted, the rhythmic swishing of the dish filling the room, her skin began to tingle, and her heart raced in her chest. She felt her eyes flutter shut of their own volition. She was no longer a woman in her sitting room but a slithering, floating snake among the clouds over the mountains of this island, studying the mists that draped the peaks dividing the French half from its Spanish half. To the north were the legendary blue waters of the Mer du Nord, the glass-like surface erupting into shards of violent waves as they crashed against the rocky outcropping of the North Island. Sea creatures of all types, from gulls to dolphins danced along the edges of the sea foam, the undulating currents seeming to lap their warmth onto every inch of her skin.

There was so much tranquility in her flight that Katniss was unprepared for the terror that crept over her as she suddenly plunged through clouds, the tender billows turning grey in anguish and torment. A sob ripped itself from her chest as the clouds became smoke, the sea-salt air turned acrid with the smell of burnt flesh. She heard the thunderous pounding of hooves and human feet against the ground and screams replaced the crying seagulls. But soon it was not the howl of murdered souls but her own wails that filled her ears. As she reached through the fires, it was his name that she kept calling and though she never saw him, she could feel him receding from her. The utter grief of that moment was so overwhelming, she was forced awake by strong arms that rocked her back and forth.

Katniss was no longer on the settee but on the floor, reclining against Johanna's chest and folded knees. Katniss' eyes went wide with the feeling of tears moistening her face and the strangeness of her reclining position. Mother Seeder stared at her with a serene look while Johanna's face was twisted in agony for her friend.

"What happened?" asked Katniss.

Mother Seeder gave the girl a small but worried smile as both she and Johanna helped her back to her seat. "Erzuli filled you with a vision." Mother Seeder gathered her pebbles and bones as Johanna fetched them both a cool drink. Katniss meanwhile was exhausted and thought she could sleep for days. She had never given credence to the island's more outrageous beliefs but today her skepticism had been tested.

"What does all of this mean?" she asked in a small voice, the terror of her vision lingering over her.

"Ah...," said Mother Seeder distractedly. "Erzuli is a powerful spirit. She, together with her husband, Legba, are the force of love in nature. Erzuly obeys no one and is as fierce as she is beautiful. She is jealous and stubborn but she is also the force of love that makes animals become human. She is very elegant and highly selective of her favorites. When she descends on a woman, she selects those who are most like her in temperament."

Mother Seeder's eyes darkened and she became quite serious. "She is also easily wounded and her _mountings_ often end in tears. Her gifts are generous but they come with a great price." Mother Seeder leaned forward as she continued to speak to Katniss, reaching out a gnarled finger to gently swipe the pearl that rested on Katniss' chest. "She is the truth of love - that it is beautiful but jealous, liberating yet possessive, persistent but also painful. Your love with the Capitaine will be no different."

Katniss's eyes narrowed in suspicion at this. "How do you know of the Capitaine?"

Mother Seeder laughed, her entire body shaking with mirth. "I know nothing but Erzuli knows all."

Katniss could not suppress her suspicion despite the evidence that some supernatural event had indeed occurred. She rejected the vision for she did not wish to be another tragic heroine in a star-crossed love story. Her life was stable, predictable and well-known to her. Why should she complicate her existence with a sentimental disaster?

As if reading her thoughts, Johanna interjected. "It must not be so. She is fine as she is. The future is not written in stone."

Mother Seeder gave Johanna a penetrating look. "True. But Erzuli does not tell only the future. She speaks of the conditions of things as they are in the present. Your friend is under Erzuli's influence. The snake of desire has already taken root. This is your friend's affliction. She can decide what she wishes but Erzuli's magic is strong for it is the magic of life, the most powerful magic that exists. Even the most indifferent and violent Loas bow before it. We poor little creatures have no chance against it." At this, the old lady stood. "Now, I wish to speak to Rue before I leave. I will return for my payment." With that, she wandered into the small room where Rue slept.

Katniss watched her leave but did not see her. Such was the tumult in her heart. How had Mother Seeder been able to conjure the feeling of flight? For Katniss was convinced it was all trickery. And the Capitaine? Surely Johanna had mentioned him! But Katniss' knowledge of her companion's unimpeachable discretion rendered even this impossible.

Worse than all was the loss. Something terrible had been prefigured in her vision, a loss so great, it even now brought the prickling of tears to her eyes though she lacked all details but one - the one that mattered most - that somehow the Capitaine was involved.

Katniss was an expert in the arts of pleasure. But she was no better than the nuns at St. Albino's in the matter of the occult or romantic love, which to her were beginning to appear one and the same.

Johanna observed Katniss for a moment before smoothing out her dress and standing up. She collected the tea set and without a word cleared the room and fetched Mother Seeder's payment. When the old woman left, Johanna fidgeted a while longer before stopping in front of Katniss with downcast eyes.

"You are my sister and my friend. I will abide any decision that you make," she said with uncharacteristic tenderness.

Katniss looked up from the whirlwind of her thoughts. "Thank you," she whispered in sincere gratitude.

"But if he so much as breathes a false note, he will wear his balls as a token around his neck," she hissed as her eyes flashed, her ferocity returning.

Katniss burst out into much needed laughter that dispelled the strangeness of what had just come to pass. "Well said, dear one. Well said!"

**XXXXX**

One week after Mother Seeder's visit, Katniss woke hours before her usual time with a premonition. Unable to recapture sleep, she dressed distractedly, brushing out her hair long until it was shiny and unknotted after which she braided it so that it roped along her left shoulder. She wanted nothing more than to gather a bit of fresh air in her lungs to rid herself of the fist of tension that had taken up residence in her chest. She thought a visit to the market with Rue might be the distraction she needed to still her fluttering nerves.

Johanna was already departed for her rounds and Rue was busy reviewing the pantry so Katniss prepared the strong coffee and mashed ripe plantains that constituted her usual breakfast. She was transported by her memories of the convent and the warm cornmeal and milk sweetened with honey that she was given each day for breakfast, with either a mango or a banana. Some days she had Rue prepare it for her, more out of nostalgia than appetite. She knew better than to return to St. Albino's, though the desire to visit her old room was strong. During her time there, she had been unbearably lonely, yet her affection for the almost hermetic life of quiet and solitary meditation was the closest she had ever felt to being herself. The wild gardens that overran the land immediately outside the convent walls were a refuge to her. She recalled sitting for hours, especially when she first lost her mother, gaining solidity from the immediacy of the vines, the swirling insects and the diamond-like drops of dew on the waxy leaves of the wild plantain trees. She was not happy - how could she be? She'd been left adrift without the two people who should have cared for her above all others. But she had felt safe and it was this that she missed after the terrifying days of grief that accompanied her parents' death.

"Katniss," Rue trilled quietly, bringing her out of her thoughts.

"Yes," Katniss responded distractedly. She turned around to see Rue holding her shopping basket.

"The fish vendor is passing and I do not wish to miss him this time…" she trailed off shyly.

"Off course! I must in any case complete my toilette," Katniss lied, grateful that she would have time to recover from her melancholy before setting off to the main market. Rue slipped quietly out of the house as Katniss resumed her place at the window, leaning forlornly against the border. The anxiety she'd felt only yesterday had become a familiar sadness. The persistent hunger that had consumed her in these weeks had spent itself, and malformed into an aching hollow in her soul. Mother Seeder's visit had not made her healthier, though her nerves no longer importuned Johanna; Katniss' seeming equanimity had calmed her friend's fear for her well-being. However the veil of serenity hid a gaping emptiness inside of her, one caused by the persistence of the Capitaine's absence, the fear that he may have reconsidered his petition, and her sudden distaste for everything that constituted her life until that moment.

Her eyes roamed the dusty, dry road, though it held no interest for her whatsoever, when she caught sight of the rustle of Rue's light yellow skirts beneath a large tree of thick foliage. Indeed, it was there that the fish vendor had stopped but something in Rue's attitude piqued Katniss' curiosity. There was a smile on Rue's face that she had never seen in all the time the girl had lived with her, a smile that announced the arrival of something, or someone, so dear, she appeared transported. She stepped behind the cart and it was then that Katniss saw him for the first time - a tall, thickly muscled black boy with a smile that seemed to be the soul's compliment to Rue's own. Katniss straightened up, her heart inexplicably racing at the intimation of feeling between Rue and this boy, an intimation confirmed when the handsome, smiling boy bent his head to kiss Rue on the delicate line of her jaw. Katniss' hand flew up to her mouth when he suddenly gripped her by the waist, both of them disappearing behind the trunk of the large tree. The intention and familiarity of his hold on her held no questions or doubts of any kind - theirs was a familiar intimacy.

Katniss leaned away from the window, feeling like a thief for having stolen this moment from the two young lovers. The Katniss of one month ago would have waited for Rue and scolded her for her behavior with the boy, that not even Katniss permitted herself such displays with the men who frequented her. She would have warned the girl against the danger of giving a man too much, without demanding some gift or reward in turn. Though Rue was was not a courtesan by profession, all women were such by nature and should demand precious things in exchange for Erzuli's fruit, the one all men sought after in their pursuit of women, whether high-born or slave.

Instead, Katniss' heart softened with hope and tenderness. _Let them love_, she scolded her baser self. For people surely died for want of it; even more sadly, they perished without knowing the deficit, did not realize that in a hazardous existence, the pure, incorruptibility of love was to be sought after like the most precious diadem. And when a person was so favored by the Loas to find their love, they should not let him go in the morning, with promises to think about what had been so freely offered but should, without hesitation, grasp that precious moment and never let it go again. He heart withered further as Katniss returned to wandering the sad places of her mind.

The pounding of hooves against the stones of the road below her home roused Katniss from her stupor, especially as they slowed the nearer they came to where she was. She wiped her hands and cast a curious glance down the opposite end of her road. She had not been swift enough to capture who had dismounted but the large, white steed was visible in the copse of trees reserved for the repose of those beasts just within the public stables. Before she could wonder at the animal, a rapping at her door startled her, causing the precious pearl to leap against the spot over her pounding heart. Katniss smoothed out the folds of her dress, unconsciously tucking a stray strand of her ebony hair behind her ear before turning the latch of the large wooden door.

At that moment, Katniss realized her memory would never do Capitaine Mellark justice. No matter how handsome he appeared in her dreams and visions, the reality would always cause those fantasies to fade away. She was lost before his flushed expression and bright eyes filled with expectation and fear.

"Y-You've returned," she said, her voice faltering.

"As I swore I would," he responded gently, holding his hat in hand. He was as pressed and orderly as the first night he came to her, every line of his blue uniform erect, each button in place, not a wrinkle to be found on his white shirt. He had worn his medals and only the dust from riding, perhaps at full gallop, interrupted the elegant perfection of his appearance. He waited at the threshold, his eyes soft and patient as Katniss stood at the precipice of her vision, the floating snake plunging into flames before vacillating between two extremes of sentiment - to soar with the promise of certain suffering or to close the door forever and never know that abandon of being inextricably bound to him.

She stepped aside in a silent entreaty for him to enter. As she carefully closed and locked the door, he stood in the small anteroom beside the red gilded box. They hungrily took in the sight of each other, immobilized by the sentiment of each finding themselves before the object of their greatest desires. Finally, Peeta ended their awkward and mutual admiration.

"You appear well," he said, tentatively stretching out his gloved hand to sweep the wisp of hair Katniss had tried to tame earlier behind her ear, the crisp material of his glove ghosting over the pearl that peeked above the bodice of her simple green dress before he dropped it to his side.

"Indeed, sir. I am quite well," she whispered, sure her nerves were on full display. She straightened herself, attempting to shore up her quickly fading serenity. "I have forgotten myself, sir. May I offer you refreshment?"

"No, thank you. I do not wish to tarry any longer if you do not desire it." The Capitaine drew himself up to his full height. "M'lady, I have done nothing more than dream of you this long month. I have calculated my offer and found it ever wanting but my heart will not listen to reason. I can no more consider withdrawing my offer to marry you than I could stop breathing. I am quite certain that another could make you perhaps happier and more comfortable. You have your loyal servants, your patrons and many who surely cherish you. But you are the only one that makes me happy. There is no one else I love. If you have made your considerations, please give your answer and end my agonies once and for all."

Katniss was stunned by his ardor and though she recalled the passionate nature of his proposal, she also discounted it as a trick of her imagination and the treachery of a hopeful memory. But now she saw on his honor that his intent was the same as that fateful night. An extraordinary hope like a soaring bird welled up inside of her and without a word, she took his gloved hand and removed the taut, suffocating material, tugging gently at the tips of his fingers. Setting the glove carefully on the credenza next to her gilded red box, she brought his palm up to her lips and pressed a kiss there. Closing his hand over her offering, she gave him a nervous smile.

"I am not as eloquent as you, sir, but do know that the sun has not risen or set once that I have not in some way had communion with you in memory or spirit. I..." here her nerves caused her to falter, "I accept your offer, Peeta."

His eyes grew wide at the familiar use of his name and a thrill overtook him body and soul, a thrill he could not contain as he captured her and pulled her to him, caressing her face gently before bringing his lips to hers. She sank into the warmth of his arms, her whole body releasing the nervous tension that had held her prisoner these last weeks, escaping her like a long sigh into the air. He sensed her softening against him and pulled back when they had their fill of each other's lips to study her, his hands roaming her body. He was already uncomfortable in his britches, each stroke of their hands on each other heating him even more.

Katniss was impatient and whimpered against his lips as he reclaimed her. She wanted nothing more than to ensconce herself with him in her room, to relieve the longing for him that had nearly crippled her. She tugged him gently to displace him from that space but he would not be moved. He stepped back, breathing heavily and turned to the ornate red box on the credenza.

"I have one bit of business I must yet attend," he said with utter seriousness. Picking up the red box, he handed it to her. "Empty it," he entreated gently in a low voice as if he were whispering a secret.

Katniss overturned the box onto the credenza, large bills and calling cards falling out. She began to speak, to explain that it was all a profession for her, just a means to an end. None of them mattered, no one ever mattered to her until now but he placed a finger on her lips to quiet her confused words.

"Nothing that happened before this moment is important to me. I will not ask for explanations and you will not apologize." He turned to the open window, taking the box in hand and hurled it against the pavement below. The box exploded in a violent shower of red wooden shards and gold plating, the force so powerful that the white steed started, whinnying in protest.

Turning back to her, Peeta took her hand and led her to where he knew her bedroom to be. With a finger over his lips, he quieted her and began his labors over her. With nervous hands, he stood behind her and undid the ornate laces of her bodice, unthreading the infernal ties with infinite patience. When he was satisfied that the material would not tear, he pulled her dress down over her, his hands sweeping across her exposed skin like the gentle lapping waves of her imaginary lake. With the same slow patience, he removed her corset, loosening her soft curves from the rigid constraints of that material.

Katniss' hands hung limp at her side yet despite his most pedestrian touch, she began to feel like a wound up doll, the coil in her belly tensing, flooding her core with moisture. To be so attended, as if he had usurped Rue's servitude, was both disconcerting and erotic at turns.

He tugged her underthings over her hips until the frilly material pooled at her slippered feet. He then undid her braid, running his fingers through her hair to loosen the knots that may have formed but they were few and soon her hair hung low and loose to her waist. When his work was complete, he turned her around and stepped back to admire her with hooded eyes. Katniss trembled under his scrutiny, which he did not desist as he began to undress before her, removing the layers and layers of fabric, buttons, pins, and laces until he stood before her in his own nakedness, every scar, every muscle placed before her. Katniss' eyes traveled the length of him - in the light of day, the contours of his body were more highlighted and her eyes followed the lines of his scars, the furrows of hair around his chest, his navel, and still lower...

He reached out to toy with the pearl necklace he'd given her, a small smile dancing at the corner of his lips. As if reading his mind, Katniss whispered "I never removed it, not even once."

The small smile widened and he scooped her chin in his calloused hands and kissed her, first tenderly, than more feverishly, his arm circling around her waist to pull her flush against him. Katniss gasped at the feeling of the entire hard, muscular length of his body pressed against her, skin upon skin. She ground her belly against his erection, causing him to moan in turn as her hands slithered up to his hair, splaying to capture the golden waves and tug at them. He hungrily kissed her neck and her shoulders, large hands cupping her breasts.

Peeta felt her increased fire, the heat emanating from her and wanted very much to please her slowly but he was too excited, too eager, to do much more. It had been so very long - the endless, steamy nights in the hot jungle, when all he dreamed of was her, of loving her until they were both limp with exhaustion. He needed to bury himself inside of her, to lose himself in her slick warmth as he had so often dreamed. Pushing her back onto the bed, she moved to the middle as he crawled over her, his erection throbbing in exquisite expectation.

He reached between them and found that bundle of nerves that had already proven to cause her so much pleasure, using his fingers to make her moan. Her wetness made him pant, his excitement driving the assault of his lips on her taut, firm breasts, nipping the soft skin before drawing her nipples out as she arched against him.

Peeta pushed two fingers inside of her as his thumb continued to apply pressure on the center of her pleasure. Watching her body climb towards its climax, he whispered, "I want to know every curve of your body, every corner of your soul. You are an undiscovered land that I would claim for my own. Let me take care of you."

"Peeta," she moaned in passionate agony, spiraling upwards as she had done many times in her dreams of him, until the tension broke and she was falling, her body arching and shaking as the waves of pleasure rolled over her body.

As he kissed her, she grabbed his rigid cock in hand and bathed him in her arousal, eliciting a groan from him that vibrated against the skin of her chest. She rotated her hips as she used his cock to stimulate her. He looked into her eyes gone black with desire while she continued her torture, studying the results of her movements as they caused his face to crumple with thwarted need.

"You would trifle with me?" he gasped as she rubbed him up and down her folds, a sly smirk of satisfaction on her lips. His hips bucked involuntarily in her hand and the feeling of her small, wet fingers tormenting him was more than he could bear. Shaking his head at her game, he plunged into her, grasping her hip in one hand and wrapping her leg around him. He caught her by surprise but soon her yelps turned into moans and incomprehensible words in Creole, words she shared with him but whose meaning she reserved only for herself. Pumping into her with a furious desperation, his face became flushed with the exertion of his body crashing into hers.

"Be still, _mon Capitaine_," she whispered in his ear. Katniss clasped his hips and pulled him toward her, holding him in place as she rotated her hips, which made him close to delirious. She dipped and raised her hips beneath him, squeezing and releasing her internal muscles, massaging his shaft as she continued her dance until he could no longer recognize who he was, where he had ever been before this moment. Unable to bear the delicious sensation of her movements, he pulled her hands up above her head and held them in place, covering her face in sweet kisses not unlike the first time they were together, when she had rained her kisses down on him. He slowed his rhythm, sliding in and out of her until they both whimpered with their need for completion. Still he continued his controlled torture, pressing his forehead to hers and watching her face change, following her glorious ascent until she could reach no further. Her body trembled around him, beneath him and he marveled at the miracle of her perfection. Still she held herself from falling over the precipice of her desire for him, the habit of deferring her own pleasure too ingrained in her habit.

"Let go, Katniss," he said through gritted teeth, determined that she should have her pleasure before his climax. Perhaps it was his permission or the way her name sounded on his lips but she did, indeed, let go just as he groaned in abandon, his face contorting in the sweet agony of a release long held at bay. Her body became fire and rain and all the tempests of the jungle wound into her feminine form. In the deepest hours of the night, much later, after they had taken their long fill of each other, she would swear that he had not been inside of her but had become a part of her as her spirit rose up to dance with his. If hers was the soul of tropical storms and roaring waves, then his was the calming wind of spring, the trilling cicadas in the night and the mourning doves at dawn. If she burned, he soothed. If she raged, he tamed her. And so they twined their contrary souls about each other and the stark contrasts of the world stilled to admit their union into the pantheon of things that must be, that had always been since the Loas woke to the glory of creation.

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**I will be tied up with a few updates over the next week but I will return to this fic after my other two WIPs have been updated. There is also Prompts in Panem at the end of the month so keep an eye out for that!**

**Please review!**


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